The dance of the wet and clean

I am not very fond of bath time because it requires from me to take off my collar. Without my collar, I feel naked and vulnerable. But that's not the only part I despise, there is also the repulsive submersion into the cold water. Brrrrrrrrrr!!!!

When I am finally done with my bath, I experience one of those moments where I struggle to conciliate my contradictory feelings: being wet (which I hate) and being clean (which I love).

I run all over the house, rub myself on the carpet, roll over, circle the coffee table and shake it all off....These steps are repeated as many times as necessary for me to get dry.

The "Box"

While the robot was disabled I could manage to get into the closet.

I looked inside and didn't see anything out of the ordinary...

With the exception of a "box" that caught my attention.

I opened it up and what I found inside was the revelation of an unknown and intriguing world.






These are the items that I found inside:

Item number one:

A small flag (?)

Item Number Two:

A leather pouch.



Item Number Three:

A piece of fabric.



And last but not least, what is probably the most interesting discovery of all.


Item Number Four:





A very old picture.

I don't know yet who he is, even though I think I may have a vague idea.

I need to conduct a research, I need to find out how these items are related.

Wounds of combat

Left side:

Right side:

Dog warfare tactics (IV)

I have identified the robot!

I could get close enough to read the information:

Vibe Swivel Glide Vision
Model Number: M088915V

The case reads "scuffguard".

Even though I could not see the manufacturer, I'm pretty sure it is a Dirt Devil.

They all have that distinctive sound. I remember a while ago in that closet there used to live another robot that went by the same name. He was way much noisier, but his cover was very soft. I tore him up when I ripped his plastic casing after the fifth fight.

That's when this blue one came into scene.... Which makes me wonder if behind that closet there is some sort of vacuum cleaner factory. Everytime I tear up one robot, a new replacement comes out of it.

Dog warfare tactics (III)

And now, let's talk about internal elements, which are the ones I sometimes run across when I am patrolling the rooms of the house. Their presence is always unwelcome and generally occur when I least expect it.

Maybe the most feared is the one called "vacuum cleaner". It's a bulky thing that every once in a while comes out of the closet and invades my space.

And I fight him fiercely.

I don't know what it is made of, I don't know its purpose. What this creepy robot is used for will always remain a mystery. All I am certain of is that every time this machine shows up it scares the "beejeesus" out of me.

Old enemies are we...I have lost count of how many battles we have had throughout the years.

What follows is a graphic narrative of our most recent encounter as it happened today:

To be continued...

Time for a break

After three days, my stomach reminded me...



that I had to eat.

Dog warfare tactics (II)

The patio front consists of a perimetral fence that extends for more than 100 feet and is what defines the boundaries between my kingdom and the exterior world.

I patrol this area regularly. As a matter of fact, I have created a path in the grass just by running along it.

Coming and going..Coming and going..Coming and going...

Normally, there is a lot of activity here...By day, there are people passing by, dogs strolling around, squirrels...By night, I have spotted an opossum walking along the edge of the fence...

But not today. The only thing that I will write in my report will be the sighting of birds that landed on the shrubs and I scared away...

Dog warfare tactics (I)

One of my jobs in this house is to keep any strange elements away from it.

There are external elements and internal elements.

External elements are all those that come from two fronts: the entrance and the patio.

They can be strangers (like the postman) or animals (like squirrels or opossums).

For the entrance front I have available the kitchen window which is designed in a way that gets me a wide view of what's going on in the neighborhood.

Today, I had an unexpected sighting; a cat dared to pass in front of my window.

Even though I don't like them, I had never underestimated the intelligence of cats. This one stood there for a longer time than he should have since he knew that I was inside and wasn't able to go outside and catch him.

The view of a cat (or any other animal that is small and moves fast) is always the ultimate adrenaline rush...








P.S. The cat stood there for more than ten minutes...It was a gray tabby..Mmmmm..I wonder if it was that Penelope Jane that never showed up today....

0:23

It's a carefully choreographed daily habit.

Every time I get up it takes me exactly twenty-three seconds.

I call it the "morning westie routine".

The "westie routine" is written in my chromosomes and consists of a yawn, a stretch of body, a toss and a rubbing of my back against the carpet and finally shaking it all off.

Nothing like that after twenty hours of sleeping in order to be ready for a brand new day...

Some audacious cat

To the cat who wrote that comment in "jive".

Meet me at:

Tomorrow. 1 pm. Come alone.

Don't forget to bring a broom, a dust pan and a mop, so the employees can clean up the mess on aisle nine.

Don't worry, you'll still have eight lives left.

Don't I have any shame?

For those of you who wrote asking about my bellyache, please receive my paw-signed "thank you" note. It makes me happy to know that there are other people out there willing to read about such a trascendental topic.

Yes. I am recuperating. The bellyache is fading. Next time, I will listen to my vet. I will not have sloppy joes and brauts anymore...

The funny thing is that this morning, when I woke up, an existential thought crossed my mind.

It's a thought that has bugged me all day. I haven't stopped tossing in my bed thinking about it.

You'll see:

Right now, this very moment, there are millions of people doing important things: working, taking classes, studying, running businesses, attending meetings, jogging, walking, going out for dinner, visiting, hanging out with friends and such...

And while all this is happening, I am here thinking and thinking and thinking...

I ask myself in this crucial moment of my existence: how come I am resting on this bed looking at an invisible dot in the space as time passes by?

What is keeping me from standing up and going out to conquer the world? Didn't my ancestors do that? Weren't the Scottish a clan of brave warriors?

So then, what's wrong with me? Don't I have any shame?



No.

(sigh)

I don't have any shame.

.

My first post

Is it really worth it to tell my life?

How do I separate the shallow from what is really meaningful?

And how do I integrate that in a objective, impartial manner?

It's an ambitious project what I am starting here. And twice as hard, given the fact that the autobiographical genre was never my forte.

I know some of you want me to start talking about some deep subjects. What are my views on the universe, who I think I am, where I come from, where I am going...

However, I must confess: today is not one of those days.

I am having a terrible stomachache. My tummy hurts real bad. I think I may die...